What is the most terrifying line in all of cinema?
Not "Here's Johnny!"
Not "Do you like scary movies?"
It's "Screenplay by Sylvester Stallone."
Those words weren't always so foreboding. This is the man who wrote the 1977 Best Picture winner, "Rocky." Since then, however, it's been atrocities like "Rhinestone," "Over the Top," and "Cliffhanger."
Now Stallone brings us the superbly awful "Driven," starring himself and Burt Reynolds, who continues to regret signing that lifetime contract in 1972 that obligated him to appear in every bad car racing movie produced by Hollywood.
Stallone the Writer is nothing if not efficient. Many screenwriters would have had great difficulty fleshing out those crucial opening scenes that establish the characters to the audience.
Some might try an "in media res" approach. Others might slowly shape their characters throughout the entire film.
What a pathetic waste of time. More movies should follow "Driven's" suck-errific example -- begin the film by cutting together shots at a nauseatingly rapid pace to create a 30-second music montage that sets the scene. (If you try this at home, make sure the music is loud enough to properly shatter eardrums.)
And use plenty of spinning newspaper headlines! This technique, inexplicably absent from the works of Eisenstein and Kubrick, adds a touch of class to the movie's opening montage. You hardly miss the nuisance of character development.
Stallone's ingenious story management frees up much more time for the cars, which come in "fast" and "crashing" varieties. Most of the cars in "Driven" are fast, but the audience is treated to the crashing kind once in a while, where a while is equal to 30 seconds.
There are people in the movie, too, but they mostly exist to make the cars go fast or to crash the cars.
When the people and the cars get together, there are some fantastic opportunities for special effects, and "Driven" exploits them every time.
For instance, there is one scene in which the people and cars are racing against each other on a rainy day. In this setting, a point-of-view shot from inside the driver's helmet, with thousands of raindrops hammering down on him, would certainly be a thrill!
Wouldn't it be even more thrilling, though, if computer-generated "rain" were substituted for real rain?
And wouldn't it be great if the "raindrops" swooped around in the air for a few seconds before landing on the helmet and making a noise that sounded like this: "splork?"
If you answered "yes," then you'll enjoy "Driven." You will also get a charge out of other innovative uses of CGI, like the wince-inducing animations of a flipping quarter and a sewer grate. Computers -- when actual quarters and sewer grates just won't do.
You may also be stunned by the movie's use of animatronic robots, but those are the real actors. Lead robot Sly Stallone humbly casts himself as Joe Tanto, the greatest driver ever in the history of all cars ever raced, ever.
But Joe Tanto (it's "tan-toe," but the obvious mispronunciation makes for some crazy antics) doesn't use his talent to win races. He channels his energy into helping young Jimmy Blye (Kip Pardue) find his "quiet spot away from the racetrack" because "once he gets it together off the track, he'll get it together on the track."
In other words, Joe Tanto is God. As evidence, I present his somber monologue on faith, which reduced me to tears, though perhaps not in the way intended:
"Faith is like a good disease that's contagious. If you hang around people who have it long enough, you'll get it too."
That is not a joke. Well, it is a joke, but that's really what he said. I think he segued into to an inspiring missive on attitude, but I was distracted by my attempts to bludgeon myself with the armrest cupholder.
Jimmy Blye needs Tanto's "advice" because he is a promising young driver who has issues with his precocious stardom, issues like stealing a CART racecar and driving it at upwards of 200 miles per hour into oncoming city traffic.
Tanto guides young Jimmy with his wisdom. When Jimmy steals the racecar, for instance, Tanto wisely reacts by stealing another racecar and chasing after Jimmy at upwards of 200 miles per hour into oncoming city traffic.
Not surprisingly, after working through his problems, Jimmy must put a fall from grace behind him to win the final race of the season and, consequently, the championship. After proving himself to Carl, Jimmy faces his enemies.
Or he would, if he had any enemies. A good nemesis might have made me care about the decisive race if Stallone hadn't written a screenplay that gradually makes everyone as likable as possible.
Inoffensiveness spreads like a contagious good disease. Jimmy's two-timing brother is retroactively transformed into a lifelong friend, and rival driver Beau Brandenburg goes from cold arrogance to sensitive kindness.
Brandenburg is the most visible opponent on the racetrack, but after his bizarre metamorphosis, it's clear that he deserves the championship as much as -- if not more than -- Jimmy, our supposed hero.
So I ended up rooting against the car-stealing punk. The satisfaction of spitting in this execrable movie's face almost compensated for the two hours it stole from my life.
Almost.
